[closed] two assassins walk into a badland

[aquilus]

Who: Jacob & Altaïr
When: Late July
Where: Free Cities/Badlands
What: Questin'
Warnings: Probably violence

[Altaïr hadn't planned to partner with Jacob on this task. He hardly needs the help, and if he did, there are others he trusts more.

And yet. It's a curious thing to have another Assassin here, particularly one he doesn't know, particularly one from the far future. There is much he has yet to come to know about Jacob Frye, even if he doesn't count their time spent in that other life — and he doesn't — and Altaïr isn't sure he'll like all of it. But then man has a care for the creed, if not a detailed knowledge of it, and that has to count for something.

(He certainly hopes it does.)

If nothing else, Jacob has a care for the people they mean to aid. Altaïr lets him lead their journey into the badlands for a while, if only to see how he'll do, but there's not much to test either of them. Nearly an hour into their journey, though, he urges his horse forward to ride alongside the other man.]

Careful. Someone's waiting for us.

[Why does he say this? Even he isn't sure. He doesn't see anything obviously wrong; maybe he heard a small sound, too quiet for his ears to truly register but enough to trigger unconscious alarm. Regardless, his instincts are suddenly alerting, and he has learned to listen to them.]

Comments

[aquilus]

[For a moment, just a moment, Altaïr pauses. Something in Jacob's voice...it's hard to say whether the man is an excellent actor or if he truly hit a nerve.]

I wish I had the chance to find out.

[Part of him does mean that, because something in him perks up at the mention of mafic artifact. But one thing at a time. He takes his mounts reins in hand and urges him to the side.]

Maybe one day I'll be lucky enough for that. Until then, I think we are done here.

[rookvision]

Maybe one day you will.

[He gets down from his mount, who seems a little agitated, and gently pats the horse's neck.]

Until then, go off on your own, you ungrateful git. I'll track these bastards down and claim the reward without you. Good luck getting home in this desert.

[As he turns away, he goes still. To the untrained eye, it'd look like he's just checking his horse and his saddlebags. Altaïr, though, may recognize the look in his eye: someone using the eagle's gift for a moment. He glances briefly at Altaïr, and gives the smallest smile and a slight nod. He's got Altaïr tracked, a reassuring green outline in Jacob's vision.

If anything happens to Altaïr, Jacob will at least know where to find him.]

[aquilus]

[That's enough of that. He's not enough of an actor to sell this deception for any great length of time, and if it were real, he'd have taken his leave already. Humbled though he may have been, there is a limit. He doesn't offer a return smile, but nods briefly as he turns to go.

Altaïr rides with purpose but no great speed away from Jacob, still in the general direction of their previous destination but likely more preoccupied with putting space between them — or so he'd guess anyone watching them would perceive.

He knows the instant he's been spotted. Not because of instincts or an extra sense this time — simply because the bandits who plague the badlands are nowhere near as disciplined as they should be, and the quiet whistle one attempts to use as a surreptitious signal does not sound anything like the few birds that make their home this after into the wasteland. It seems they've chosen him as the target, not Jacob, unless they've decided to divide forces and attack both of them at once — unlikely, for cowards like these, even if they don't realize they've made the unfortunate choice to attack two Assassins.

There's no true path out here, but the closest thing curves around a ridge, below a jutting outcrop of rock. It's an obvious ambush point. Altaïr rides unhurried into it, trusting that Jacob will choose the right moment to act.

There's the sound of weapons being drawn. No one can see it beneath his hood, but Altaïr grins.]

[rookvision]

[Jacob lets him go for a while, keeping him tracked as long as he can before he dares to risk drawing closer, because it looks like the bandits have decided not to attack him. Really quite a shame, but Jacob's flexible. He decides to get sneaky, and makes his way around, drawing a dagger as he comes closer to what looks like the perfect ambush point.

There's Altaïr. And there are the bandits, drawing their weapons.

Jacob's the worse at stealth between him and his sister, that's true. Evie is so keen at it that she can damn near go invisible when holding still. But Jacob is still an Assassin, with all the attendant training, and that means that it takes two, three bandits going down before anyone realizes that something is going terribly wrong. Shouts of panicked alarm begin to rise, and then—

—what looks very much like a sword clatters to the ground from somewhere, where Altaïr can easily pick it up if he wishes. It's an invitation: come and join in, I'm leaving some for you.]

[aquilus]

[Their "argument" and separation most likely turned them into easy pickings from the bandits' perspective, unable to have each other's backs as they seem to be. Not only that, but Altaïr appears to be the perfect target, unaware and unknowing. He wonders who will attack first, the malevolent strangers or the Assassin he still doesn't fully know — and then a cry answers his unasked question.

He pivots in an instant, turning his horse and moving faster after an even quicker dismount. His own sword is tied to the beast's pack and would take only a few moments to untie and retrieve, but seconds can mean everything at a time like this. He dives for the sword and joins the fray without hesitation — one eye on Jacob, curious as to how he fights, and one on his own opponents. They're outnumbered, but there's not a trace of fear in him; he has absolutely no doubt about how this will go.]

[rookvision]

[Jacob's a hurricane when he fights, and more than that, he's someone who's at home in a bar brawl. He's grinning wildly when Altaïr shows up, a man in his element even when unarmed—which he isn't for long, disarming one of the bandits to yank the long knife from their hand and give it a twirl. He's brutal in cutting the bandit down, quick and efficient, and spares the body barely any thought before he swings around to block another blow.]

We ought to leave one of them alive to talk to! I'd like to ask them, [yeowch that was a hard punch, but Jacob recovers quickly and delivers a hard kick to the bandit's knee,] some questions!

[aquilus]

[Altaïr gives him a sharp nod to acknowledge he has heard the request. Preserving life during a fight in which he is terribly outnumbered is not typically one of his concerns, but he can manage it.

That doesn't mean most of the bandits will live through the end of this fight, though. Some of them appear to realize this, because their level of combat grows not more desperate, if not more skillful. One of the biggest charges forward, wielding his tremendous bulk along with whatever weapons he might have — and it might be the more dangerous of the two, which is why Altaïr won't allow him the time to use it.

He dodges, thrusts out an arm and extends his hidden blade as the bandit rounds on Jacob. He doesn't have a chance to react before the blade is plunged between his ribs.]